


Walking in Darkness and Ashes

by Inugami



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inugami/pseuds/Inugami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Each event is preceded by Prophecy. But without the hero, there is no Event. You are the Chosen. You can't fail."</p>
<p>The gods truly must hate her, or they are crazy, maybe both. Well, either way she won´t give up, even when she has no idea what she is doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A story retold a thousand times, another try, again. Worse for wear, however good or bad it may be.

_We walk in darkness and follow the light.  
But maybe the light is only an illousion…_

Splinters of memory, flames, heat, biting coldness, the smell of ash, sulfur and sorrow.  
The impact with the ground should be jarring, but concussioness fades before the pain can register.

In the end the pain is so much sharper when awake, a dull ache like a broken wrist, but nothing is broken, instead something is ripped open.  
Maybe it is the play of the light, the green sheen that makes the soldiers standing in a circle around the elf so much more menacing than they are.

But maybe they are just absolutely pissed, angry and also…full of fear.  
Fear combined with anger is the greatest weapon of mass destruction.  
Without those both emotions, especially combined, wars would not be brought on as easily, murder …how can you murder when you can not fear and hate?  
Maybe with joy, but if someone enjoys murder, there needs to be hate or fear, maybe both of them, somewhere else festering in the life of the murderer.  
And they just seek an easier target to solve those hurtful emotions.

There is the dank smell of wet stone, coolness, the odeur of the iron shackles, which remind one of lost blood, when there is deep seated rust.  
The two women who enter through the massive door are just as angry and…fearful as the soldiers standing already there with their drawn weapons which are sheated as soon as both women take their place.  
Everything is choreographed, to make fear bloom, to break prisoners, to intimidate them into offering up their secrets willingly.  
Just a shame that the elf has no secrets to offer.

One is rough, evil interogator, nice interogator.  
“You think me responsible?”  
Her handling is rough, cropped dark hair, a warrior.  
“Stop it Cassandra, we need her”  
The name doesn´t ring anything in the elfs memory.  
Well, the memory that is still to be had, but something is ringing, that is for sure.  
A headache that wages war with the green light that produces a dull pounding ache.  
“I know that you will not believe me, understandable with..with what happened”  
Can the elf even believe what the humans tell?  
“All..gone, dead?”  
So many lives lost, did she know some of them? Did she lose loved ones, friends, maybe also enemys?  
“I am sorry, I can´t remember..not even how I came here or why. Just that…this here”

Maybe they will think her a good actor, a spy or a betrayer. Even a demonspawn she may be in their eyes. She knows that her life is hanging on by a very thin thread, she could be executed, striked down because…not even because they think her guilty, but because they are so confused and fearfull about what happened.  
Because there are no other options.  
These are the situations where innocents are slaughtered by accident and she may be one of them if luck is not on her side.  
“I don´t remember anything, but one thing I know, I am at your mercy and that I have no words of defence… ”  
Noble, demure words might be her downfall, especially when she feels like a sheep in front of a lioness that mourns her cubs.  
“ It was a hellish …place. Dark, gleaming..cold and hot in the same breath and formless things chasing me. It seemed like a nightmare where one runs and is barely faster than a snail.  
There was light and I tried to reach it. It was a woman, it seemed liked a woman and I reached out, I knew I had to reach out or cease to exist and than…”  
She tries to reach out with her hand and traces her cheek where she impacted with the ground, but the chains stop her and she lets her hand sink down onto her knee “…than I fell but I knew I was no longer in this nightmare…that is all I know”  
Broken pieces of memory, splinters, dust, specks of truth that flicker through her mind and vanish again.

 

The dark one doesn´t trust her and the other one, the red head…there is something more to her. She is just as much a predator as the other woman, but a more subtle one.  
It puzzles her when the dark one sends the redhead away, more puzzling even when she is freed from the chains to be lead outside.  
That makes her headache worse, the lights which are not bright in the sense of sunlight, but bright in the same way as lightning, concentrated, spearing, searing.  
The same searing pain that sizzles through her fingers, up her arm and than dulls again into a pounding ache. As if she had been out in the cold too long and plunged into hot water instead of getting warmed up carefully.  
“You are our only chance, but it might also kill you”  
“I understand”  
“You do?”  
“Well, as far as my choices go…this..thing kills me one way or the other, or your people kill me for something I can not remember if I even have done it, or if I am innocent. So I can either wait for my death, or decide to try and die fighting”  
That seems to be the right explanation, at least for the woman called Cassandra, the dark warrior one.  
Her mood is strangely accepting of the idea that she walks into her death.  
Maybe she is still in shock, crazy…or both.

It is a walk of shame, of hate and had she been alone, the people along their way would have pulled her to pieces with their bare hands. The voices are angry, buzzing wasps..no one is throwing rocks or more unsavoury things, only because they might hit Cassandra who explains their plight, their anger, their need to hate someone…and she understands it.  
“The chance of peace, gone because of the explosion”

The elf is a bit surprised how level headed the woman named Cassandra acts.  
The grief in her voice is clear as the nightsky…and than more surprise as the rope is cut and she promises a trial. Well, a promise that might be empty in the end if they die..but so be it.  
There is nothing else the elf could do to save herself, so she has to flow with the churning waters she fell into when the sky ripped open.

They go out into the fields to test her mark, she at least thinks about making a run for it, but where? Especially when this rift may swallow the world and her sooner or later.  
The first time one of those burning rocks crash into the ground she also shakes and nearly screams..that was too close for comfort.  
But than she realises that the dull thuds she felt were not just a resonating sound of the pain in her head and hand. Those rocks do fall everywhere, steadily, maybe also increasingly.

The next impacts brings her to her knees as the mark flares up and tears further into her very being. As if the stone had struck her into the back, but no…it just was close by..or..no it wasn´t just because of those burning rocks that rain down.  
“The pulses are coming faster now” Cassandra helps her up, steadies her while she fights against her shacking knees, to get them back under her control.  
“The larger the breech grows,the more rifts apear” which also means more pain for her, and less chance to get out of it alive if she isn´t struck by a burning boulder and turned into ground meat before they can reach a smaller rift she could..!maybe! close.  
Than Cassandra talks about demons which appear, how the soldiers saw her come out of a rift and a glowing woman.  
That makes the elf smile despite the pain and the confusion she has to fight with.  
“So at least I know I haven´t lost my mind completely and dreamed it all up”  
There are some people who can confirm that the bit of knowledge she has about the whole fiasco, is true.  
Than they reach the gate, a surprise to her because she feared that they wouldn´t make it even that far, with all this stuff falling from the sky. And the chunks of stones floating around the green, pulsing..thing…this is absolutely messy-pants worthy.  
The elf has no idea why she hasn´t lost control of her bodily functions, either through fear or pain, but there she is..still standing and…alive.  
“Holy shaaaaa” well she counted her chicks too early before they were all hatched.  
One boulder crashes into the bridge, they fall..a fleeting thought to the soldiers on the bridge, did they survive the fall, are they all dead, is that a chunk of human beneath her hand, squishy and warm?  
But there is no time to look for other survivors, at least Cassandra has either enough luck or training to survive without greater injuries, because than the next boulder is not a boulder.  
It is a demon and Cassandra wants her to stay back, to engage the demon herself…because as the only possibility to close the rift, the elf has to stay safe…but fate doesn´t play after the rules.  
Another demon crawls out of a gleaming crack in the ground and she grabs the next best weapon that tumbled down into the valley with them.  
The sword feels too heavy in her hands, but she fights, because there is only the choice to die fighting, or just die.  
“Drop your weapon, now”  
And she drops it when the enemies are defeated and Cassandra looks at her with distrustfullness.  
“So we have to go through a demon infested valley..with only one fighter?”  
Cassandra is not stupid and the elf could have tried to flee or run her through with the sword while she still was engaged with her opponent.  
“Pick a weapon that suits you, we both know that your life is on the line so…I will trust you for now. And I will remember that you came willigly”  
There is a lighter, smaller sword, the blade thinner but as long as a normal sword.  
It still doesn´t feel right, but better then the two handed sword she grabbed before the demon had the chance to shove his claws through her intestines.

 

The demons are crawling out of the underbushes and from under the rock it seems.  
They try to avoid some, but the demons seemingly smell, feel their presence, and it is tiring them out.  
She doesn´t want to die, but the chance to get through all this is meager and crumbles away with each new enemy, another burning piece of whatever is crashing from the sky.  
Her muscles scream in pain, she can not even distinguish anymore where she does hurt, where not, and the stubborn weapon is weighting a ton now.  
It feels like wading through knee high mud, one foot in front of the other..come on dammit..she cusses at herself.

Tears threaten to fall, frustration, anger…strangely fear is absent now, just that overwhelming frustration, dying out here without at least having a chance to use that mark. She just wants to know if that thing is usefull or not.  
Dying without resolving such important things that weigh the mind down is a sure way to turn into a wandering, lost spirit that can not find peace. A thought she hates as much as the next couple of demons which run at them in their jumbling, gangly style.

The ache is so deep, her legs want to give up on supporting her weight, her arms want to fall off, every drawn breath burns with the taste of blood, the cold is clearly not her friend.  
She feels so damn weak, just as those bad dreams where you have to do the simplest task and fail because a leaf is weighting you down to the ground, and your fist does as much impact as a feather tickling a kitten.

A scream tears out of her, a last swing, just one last hit against those things, dying will feel so much better when she can ram her sword through one last abdomination.  
No idea where she took that last bit of strength from, she knows it will have no greater impact on her enemy, she is worn out, but all to Hel…one last hit no matter how laughable it will be.

Maybe the demons will die of laughter, now that would be satisfying…  
The demons clearly see how wrung out she is, a bunch of predatores zooming in on the tired prey to finish it.  
She doesn´t even get a hit, the things moves away and her blade hits the ground and jarrs her already smarting arms, making her fall over forward, face first into the snow.

`No, no not meeting my end this way, no…`she flopps like a fish out of the water to turn herself around, there is puzzlement growing in her mind.  
The demons should have had enough time to take chunks out of her, or are they playing with her, to see how far she may still be able to go?

As she succeeds in rolling around, she squeaks, coming face to face with a demon who shatters the next moment, frozen to ice like his comrads that Cassandra already has dispatched.

“Are you a mage?” voice frosty, but the elf shakes her head in disbelief “No I, I don´t know” there is no answer she can give to Cassandra that will satisfy either of them.   
Did she do that, had she frozen the demons? And if, how did she do that?  
She can´t remember doing anything special, not even thinking of anything.  
The blade is eyed with suspicion, but the sword doesn’t offer any answers either.  
But again, there is not time to ponder thoughts or comb through her memories to get answers.

She can only imagine that Cassandra is more wary of her after this display…more than one, as the next time they encounter enemies, the earth seems to fight for and with her, encasing their opponents and making them more vulnerable to their swords.  
Screw that, more vulnerable to Cassandras sword, the elf is too tired to do much more than stumble forward through pure stubborness. Even when that strange display of nature is giving her a boost, to use the last of her energy to go on, it is not enough to enable her to swing her blade against enemies any longer.

The next thing she knows a bald elf male is grabbing her hand and pushing it to the glowing rift which closes, the green pulses dying off.  
“Oh, we are already here, are we?” she mumbles, sounding drunk from exhaustion.  
“What?” it is her only word as she is presented with a weary expression.  
“It was you, or rather the mark on your hand with which we might have the chance to close the breach after we have closed enough rifts and you have gained power”  
“Oh so…I guess that is good” she flexes her hand. It hurts defenitely less than before.  
She is sizing the elf up, but she can´t make sense about this fella.  
Just that he seems to know a great deal more of what is going on.  
“So where to now?” standing around won´t help..”..but I would be glad for a cup of water, for now..” her throat is parched, the taste of blood and the stink of demons at the back of her throat. It would be a small mercy to get rid of that.   
A bigger mercy would be to if the pain in her limbs, head and chest could be taken care off, but…thank the maker for small mercies which make the bigger burdens easier to carry.  
They all need a drink, even when some of the warriors look like they need more than water after what they went through.  
Some wary looks fall onto her, but is it because she is an elf, because she closed the rift, or because the people think she might be responsible for destroying all those lives?

There is something crackling between Cassandra and the male dwarf called Varric, but it surely is not magic. Unwelcome tag-along. How fitting.  
“Well I guess I can say that I fall into the same category” the water helps a bit, to refresh her from the fightings, but the real big fight is still to come.  
A small, tired smile falls unto Solas as he uses magic to buff her up, taking away the ache in her body and giving her new means to go on. Because going on the must.  
No rest for the wicked, seems she had been a bad girl in a former life.  
She lets them talk and studies them instead. What could she say without having her memory?  
Not much, nothing of importance and so she tries to make the best of it, again.  
Some more minutes to rest, to breath. She feels eerily light now, might be a high before she crashes badly, there is no real rest to replenish anyone of them.

Fighters, all of them. The elf has magic, does she have magic too, or is this just because of the mark on her hand that this strange things happened with the demons?  
If she survives, that is something she will have to discuss with the elf who seems to have more knowledge about the breach than anyone else.   
Cassandra is clearly a big cat, a predator and Varric, he strikes her as a bull…short, stocky but a big head, big muscles and what he has not in height he defenitely has elsewhere. In a fight between wildcat and bull, the bull often wins…strange thoughts, but fitting because she herself clearly is also strange.

The breach, a rift-thing in her hand, walking through a nightmarish world, ending up sane and healthy while hundreds others have died. Or at least sane enough so she is functionable.  
Solas the elf strikes her as friendly, but maybe that is just the pressure of surviving.  
The dwarf is friendly also, as is Cassandra, both in their own way after the initial shock moment.  
Impressions change just as fast as the wind it seems.

They move as quickly as they can without mounts, with falling boulders and everything else that can get into their way.  
Demons block their path, but they have to cross the frozen river to reach their destination.

“I thought you said she is no mage?”  
“I have no explanation for this, at least not now. Maybe when the fight is over and we have survived I can find an explanation for this.”  
With `this` they mean that the demons have frozen on the ice when she drove the sword into one of them.   
And it is true that they have no time for explanations because than they reach a small rift, demons popping up, like daisies in spring.  
The rift here is beautiful, a growing, pulsing cristall…if it weren´t accompanied with pain and demons.  
“The thing on your hand really is usefull”  
“I hope it will stay usefull” she smiles at the dwarf while she stumbles through the gate.  
She is exhausted after the fight, and with the pain that the claws of the demons, the closing of the rift has brought her. Her headache seems worse and she is more or less lost when the older man is accusing her.  
Well, nothing new there and she is too tired and in pain to get into a shouting match or to defend herself. Sleep sounds nice….and food.  
The ground looks so comfy at the moment, maybe she could lay down for a moment?

At least for now she has these people on her side, and be it only that they can use her to close the rifts and later the breach if she does survive.  
“Oh…excuse me, what?”  
“I said, what is your opinion, which way should we go?”  
A shame that she is spacing out, how can someone be so tired after having slept for…how long had she slept?  
“I…”  
Now they are waiting on her to decide what to do? So who is crazy?  
Some want to throw her into prison or kill her, they distrust her, she has no memory but she should decide? Splendid…  
“We take the mountain part..ahm path I mean. Maybe there are survivors but at least if there are enemies they might have cleared some out and who knows what awaits us on the other way?”  
“You are thinking like a strategist” Varric talks to her as they walk away “A shame that you lost your memory, I would be interested in your story”  
“Well if I survive and regain my memory, you will be the first one to hear my past, present and future thoughts” She is no less tired than before, but the banter is…nice.  
“And if I don´t recover my memory, or die, you can either help me make something up, or spin a nice tale on your own”  
Strange which kind of chats come up when you are stuck in a situation one can only call apocalyptical.  
A free taught elven mage, a dwarf and a lioness in human form who also seems to have history with the dwarf…nice.  
At least she won´t die bored….but extremly tired, that for sure.

 

“The consequences are on your head, Seeker” these are the parting words they had recived.  
Old and angry man he is..whoever he is, she has no idea. Too tired to remember much.

“Thank you for…well..that I am here, alive” instead of beheaded or carted off to prison somewhere else, she gives Cassandra her thanks, where she is still not sure how to adress them all.  
“And thank you all for..coming along I guess” while looking from one to the other.  
“Aw isn´t that cute” the dwarf chuckles “Well it is nice to come along. The fights, the banter, new interesting material for a book to write after this is over. A real pleasure to come along”  
Varric surely is talkative while Solas seems to brew over some thoughts.  
She is a puzzle, that much is clear and Solas seems to be bent on solving it.  
Their path up the mountains is blessingly empty of threats. There are still boulders crashing down, at least not as many, not as big and thankfully not as close as before.

After climbing the ladders to reach the mine, she would have stood there and liked to take all that in. The mines are not small and crampy and dark like she had imagined.  
She guesses that those are dwarf made and are impressive. With the beams and colums made out of stone, the ceiling so high she could imagine a dragon fitting here comfortably, spreading its wings even…how she would love to dwell on the sight and just stare for a bit, but there are already glimmering green shades and gangly, clawy demons on their way, wanting her hide and flesh. Well, that is what she could imagine what they want, she is in no position to ask those beings what their plans are for her.

“When this is all done and I survive, I would like to take a closer look at the architecture of the mine, it seems fascinating” she mumbles when they make their way outside again.  
“Sure that we haven´t there a dwarf in disguise?” Varric jokes  
“One doesn´t have to be a dwarf to find mines, stones, ore and architecture fascinating” Solas remarks. “When this is over, there might be other places worthy of your awe” he remarks to her and then there is again a pulsing light stretching to the sky.  
No idea from where she is drawing the strength that keeps her going despite all that had happened. Magic helps, but can only do so much.  
Another rift and this time they find the lost soldiers.  
Four of them who have survived and it stings a bit to be called prisoner by Lady Cassandra, but that is what she is, a prisoner, for now.  
“Well it was the right thing to do, after Lady Cassandra pledged for me, to help solve this..mistery and so we had to come looking for you.”she answers to the soldier who thanks her “I wouldn´t have wanted more people to die” and that is no lie.

“Go, the path is clear for now” Cassandra sends the soldiers back so the people know what is going on, or maybe there is an other explanation..maybe she wants to save them, not take them with their group to certain death.  
Again they have to climb a ladder, but now it goes down the other side of the mountain and she dearly hopes they reach their destination without any other big disturbances.

The temple of sacred ashes now lays in ashes. Her thoughts are a bit sarcastic and what looked like a demon at first, are the twisted, gnarled remains of …a victim.   
Someone who died in the explosion, one of many, shielding their eyes from the blight light, burnt to a crisp nonetheless, a statue between jagged waves of molten and refrozen stone. Or did the stone grew up from the ground?  
It is an impressive and gruesome sight and it hurts so much.  
Not just mental pain, she hurts as if her ripcages wants to flee backwards through her spine.  
Just a moment, gone the next second but enough to constrict her throat.

Has she ever seen battle, real senseless destruction? She doesn´know, at least not for now.

There is thunder resounding in the clear sky, the wind cries through the jagged pillars, the remains of walls and people. So much rubble, so much destruction.  
Parts of the temple are still intact and than they stand on…whatever it was once was, the inside of a building, a gallery maybe.  
But now it reminds her more of a balcony, with the other half of the building crumbled, blast away, whatever.  
And there is the rift, 10, 20 times bigger than the ones she had encountered so far.  
A hovering cristal who grows in pulses. Beautiful and horrible directly in front of them as the soldiers arrive who have taken the other path and…well that is it now, or not?

Demons to fight, to clear the path for her to the rift and she has to close it or die trying.  
Strangely there are no shades, no demons to stop them as they climb over banisters and broken walls to get to the rift.  
A moment of rip-cracking pain, than it is gone again as they land on the ground floor, having found a way down to the cristall, a cristall who breathes in a strange way, or a beating heart?  
A vision follows, or how one would call it when everyone at your side also sees what has happened here before.  
At least part of what happened and she looses her docile behaviour for a moment when Cassandra asks if this vision was true.  
“I don´t know!” she screams, frustrated pain, sadness etched on her face “I don’t know what happened, what is true” she repeats calmer, shaking her head.  
Solas comes to the rescue as he explains how the rift is closed, but not sealed “It bleeds, shows what has happened”  
And it is on her to close the damned thing for good.  
Did she hear that right?  
“We have to open it, let the demons spill out and than close it up?” she repeats in disbelief…now isn´t that scrumptious.  
The gods hate her, don´t they?  
Attracting attention from the other side they do.  
The demon is much bigger than the others they saw on the way to the temple.  
Seems the bigger the rift, the bigger the beings are who can get through to the other side.

Archers who stand on broken walls and pillars, higher up on the mountain side, let their arrows fly as the demon stomps his way through the rubble. Solas is using his magic and Varric and Bianca fight together as the team they are.  
Cassandra jumps more or less head on to engage the demon and she, the lowly, small elf is trying to close the rift.  
It works for a short time, than the pain throws her backwards, but the pulse also dazes the demon so the others can hack away at it.  
Tendrils of green light flow outwards and it is an on and off of trying to seal the rift, avoid the demon and getting her bearings together whenever the pain gets to great.

But then there is a last pulse, the light from her hand banishing the rift, sealing it and the explosion of light, the destruction of the shrunken down cristall is something she can´t contemplate as she has lost her conscious mind already, dropping to the ground in a heap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting comfy with the character, ...boring

It is warm, soft…the smell of wood, wool and fire.  
There is still pain, her head hurts, but as she opens her eyes she is pleasently surprised.

She is neither in shackles, nor in a cell. A nice house, with a warm fire….there is a cage with ravens in a corner. Everything looks so nice and homely…so much wood everywhere.  
This is a place where she could stay forever. It feels safe, like a place she knows.  
Than the door opens and with a bit of difficulty she rolls onto her side to peer at the newcomer.  
An elf, even more gangly than she is, young and thin and..woha!

The stuff she carried tumbles to the floor, is she scared because she thinks that “Hey, I won´t hurt you…” but it seems that wasn´t the problem, the young woman, more like girl, falls to her knees, bows…  
Ok that is it, she is pinching herself, no she is not dreaming “Hero of Andraste?”  
The girl doesn´t really make sense to her. She is just happy that the breach is stabilized for now, even when it still exists.  
Her hand doesn´t pain her any longer, she still has a bit of headache tough.  
And her rips…and some other aches, dull but still there as an echo.  
“What was that” she mumbles as the girls rund out of the hut to tell Lady Cassandra that she is awake.  
Groaning she sits up and looks for clothes she can put over her…underclothes.  
After that she stares off into space for a while before she gets up and examines the bottles the girl has left lying on the floor.  
Nothing has broken surprisingly, and she pockets some of them, putting the others on the bedside table.

She hesitates to leave the small house. Why would she want to enter the real world again where people are more likely to still hold a grudge against her.  
No, she is not very fond of the idea to walk outside where the citizens may wait for her. Instead she walks over to the cage and coos to the ravens, scratching their heads as the birds lean over to her so she can reach them between the bars.  
The ravens remember her of something.  
Similar birds, just not as friendly and bigger.  
She breathes in deep. Smoke from the fireplace, wood and dry heat, she really does not want to go out there and peeks through one of the windows.  
Not much to see, a normal small town as far as she can see.  
The same where she woke up maybe? Only that it was in chains, not in a warm bed.  
Her stomach feels uncomfortable, not only because of the lack of food. But she is not one who hides away from a confrontation, not for long and than there is a knock on the door.  
“Yes?” as soon as she answers, the door swings open and her heart beats harsher for a moment as she sees it is one of the soldiers. Not the same as in the cell maybe, but with the uniform, who could tell?  
“If you would follow me please, I was sent to escort you to the war room”  
Maybe she should just run, but what of the glowing green thing on her hand? She stalls, because who knows what might await her when she reaches her destination.  
“Whatever, lead on” she sighs, unhappy with everything. In the end there is no other way for her, at least she is not seeing one and so she follows the soldier outside.

The real surprise is the rumbledethumps of people waiting outside, or rather that they are cheering and not throwing stuff at her.  
Seems the elven girl has spread the news that she is awake.  
But that the people now seem to hail her a hero is more disturbing than them wanting to throw her in prison and walking through the crowd is unnerving, strange.  
The whisperings are the opposite to the last time..”That´s her, she stopped the breach from getting any bigger” and similar sentences reach her ear as she is wandering up to the chantry.  
It is embarassing, she would love to hide somewhere…but at least for now she is free and not in a dungeon.

Grand Chancellor Roderick, the grumpy old man still wants to throw her in prison, more preferably execute her it seems. She is not sure if she can keep his name on her mind.  
Somehow she knows she has a bad habit, since forever, of not remembering the names of people who dislike her and do so openly.  
Names slip so easily away.  
Just like her name…what is her name? And would anybody believe her that she does not remember it?  
The inquisition reborn is what takes the wind out of Rodericks sails, for now.  
Cassandra defends her, seems she is now a cub to the lioness.  
Or does she see that as too optimistic?  
“He still wants to blame me and I can´t find fault in it” she sighs and understands.  
She understands the fear, the anger, the helplessness of the people who blame her, who want to have a scapegoat.  
Just because she hates it does not mean she can not understand where others come from.

Leliana the readhead and Cassandra explain to her what happens now, what the Inquisition exactly is and why it is needed.  
“We will fix this, together and find those who will do what has to be done”  
She really tries to follow the explantions, they even offer her books and letters to read.  
There is only one problem. It seems too much, too boring. Why do they want to cram all that knowledge into her head? Yesterday…no, three days ago she still was seen as the enemy.  
Now she is hailed hero and for real, they want her to join the Inquisition? Not just as a soldier but as...what exactly? The Herald of Andraste, a straw puppet or as a real person?  
That does not feel right or comfortable. There are no memories of her life before the explosion and also no knowledge how she could co-ope with all this bullcrap.  
If they had taken a beggar and thrown him into the clothing of a templar, it would not have been less baffling than what she is encountering now.  
A desperate whine wants to built up in her throat, who thought that this was a good idea?  
But as long as there are no other options, the danger that the mark in her hand might kill her, and she has no memory that would be useful for an easy escape, she stays.  
Really, she has only just awoken, why do they want to throw her in front of the Gruffalo herd so fast?

 

“Could we maybe now..get something to eat?” she asks when her ears are already feel as if they want to drop off her head any moment. Anything to stop this, anything. Where are those rifts when she needs them?  
“Oh yes of course. How easily such things are forgotten. You have slept for three days…mostly, and you have to be starving by now even when we got some broth and potions into you. Let us get going. It will boast the morals of the soldiers to see you up and around”  
Go figure, she is a figurehead. A hungry one.  
Well, if she is only a figurehead that means she has not to make the big decisions, or not?  
Leliana leads the way to the frater while Cassandra stays back for the moment to take a look at the assembled troops.  
She can not answer the questions for her name, so she gets to choose her own name.  
A pleasure not many can enjoy.

Ilu Asea, whole and helpful..a name carries power, and so this seems the best to choose…a whole sky and an helpful ally, or maybe more helpful allies to come.

As they enter the dining room she is introduced to Cullen and Josephine.  
But she really can not listen to any more small talk, not even with half an ear and so she just reflects some meaningless pleasantaries back.  
Not only she seems to be troubled and hungry, the atmosphere is understandable strained, with the breach and all.  
A simple meal of cheese, bread and a vegetable stew is served.  
Hot tea helps to wash everything down. No matter that it is stew, it is hard to swallow.  
She doesn´t know them, and there they are sitting at the same table, thrown together because of, what..a prophecy?  
Dumb luck, drunken gods? Will they be comrads, friends, enemies?  
Might she be discarded when she is no longer necessary, or will they throw her to the wolves when the pressure gets too big?  
She would love nothing more than to grab onto the delusion that they have become friends out of thin air, that they see her as a person and not as a tool to use, but she can´t.  
She knows that she is a way to seal the sky, and the moments before come back to haunt her.  
When she fought at their side.  
With Varric and Solas and also Cassandra, but that might be over as fast as it had started. The felt comradry only a figment of tired mind?

Do they make the guardsmen follow her for her own good, or is it more a precaution so she is not making a beeline into freedom? At least she gets her own room, a fire merrily burning, waves of warmth flowing through the room. A nice bed, a table where she can read and be left in peace until they will call for her again.  
She really could have gotten it worse, much worse. And there is a glimpse of chains, the smell of salty air and damp wood for a few moments until she shakes herself forcefully out of memories who might be delusions.  
In the end she feels that she is in their way. Is she worth the time they need to invest so she can learn the important stuff about the Inquisition, about the mark on her hand and the breach?  
She can´t believe that she slept for three days, not with how tired she fells while trying to concentrate on the books. New knowledge, some things she already knows. But for now she is more or less a blank slate..and if she is staying true with herself, she does not really want to learn all those things. Do they hope her memories will come back when she has to read up on the dynastie of kings?  
But the book about herbs is more of interest and soon she is immersed in reading, forgetting time and space around herself.  
Even when it does not help in restoring her memory, at least with knowing her likes and dislikes Leliana might get some clues on who she might be.  
The missing tattooed lines on her face at least imply a city elf, or a self taught hedge mage…she snorts. Now that would be hilarious. Two odd eggs of the same clutch


End file.
